


One Madness for Another

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Requested Works [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Denial, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: During his dimension travels, Sasuke accidentally finds himself in the past - and ends up taking a role in the hopes of preventing Madara's madness from taking him.





	One Madness for Another

**Author's Note:**

> For diabolicalquinn over on tumblr :)

The world was a blur. Greys and blacks and darker greys whenever he could crack his eyes wide enough to see at all, all sound around him echoing as if he existed in a tunnel. It was hard to think past the pressure dragging him back unconscious, and Sasuke’s drifting ended shortly after it began.

It was little better the next time he awakened. The world was still a swirl of shades and non-color, sounds still muddled as if he was miles away from it all. In all actuality Sasuke couldn’t say how many times he lay there half awake or less, trying to figure out where he was, how he got there, why he was in such a state. When he was finally able to stir fully awake he had no knowledge of how long he’d been unconscious, only that it hadn’t been long enough for his muscles to atrophy - his body was exhausted to the bone nonetheless.

The room was dark. Heavy curtains hung in front of the window, so he couldn’t tell if it was late or midday or night. For a minute he didn’t know whether or not he’d been there before, eyes flickering over the bare space, trying to place it in a memory that may or may not exist.

Someone was walking in the house. He couldn’t place their exact location, nor the direction they were heading. It distracted his thoughts away from his own state, head turning ever so slightly away from the window, hair hissing against the pillow.

A door opened. The footsteps stopped, something cool pressing against his forehead a moment later. Before he could help it his eyes slid closed, a deep voice whispering a name that tugged at some lost memory - but then unconsciousness took him again, and Sasuke was lost to the world.

The room was not empty when he came to again. It was still dark, curtains still blocking the world from view, room bare of most everything but the essentials. But the room itself was not what captured his attention.

Someone was kneeling next to him. He had to squint to catch their face, and even then it didn’t immediately register as familiar. The man looked younger than he should have, and without his face hardened with anger or twisted in sick glee it was difficult to recognize Madara at all.

But it was him. The very man who had brought death and fire down upon his friends, had tried to destroy the world by bleeding the moon red. One who had shown nothing of mercy as he cut through their forces, felling hundreds of seasoned shinobi as if they were not but blades of grass in his way.

On a normal day, Sasuke would have been hesitant to face this man. On his back, with his body still weak with exhaustion, potential unknown injuries capable of keeping him down, he had no difficulty in admitting his fear. If Madara wanted him dead, it would take little more than a flick of his wrist - and if he wanted to cause him pain, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

He didn’t have time to even twitch before Madara’s hand was reaching for him, something clenched in his fingers. Something about dying there felt ironic in a way - so far away from the war, after he’d set off on his path of redemption, trying to eradicate all potential threats in the different dimensions and keep his village safe.

Death did not take him. All that greeted him was a damp cloth, cool to the touch on his forehead, Madara’s face coming further into view as he leaned over him.

“Try to rest. I will keep you safe this time.”

His words made little sense, but Sasuke didn’t have the energy to protest. So he let himself be looked after for the time being, watching the odd hesitance in Madara’s movements. It stayed over the days he lay there, and as he became more aware of his surroundings Sasuke noted even stranger behavior. How Madara’s eyes tightened around the edges, a frantic sort of energy hidden behind his calm. The way his hands clenched as if to prevent shaking. How soft his words were, a hint of something akin to disbelief coloring his tone.

The behavior was so unlike the Madara he’d fought that Sasuke couldn’t help but bide his time, analyzing it while he recovered from his injuries - injuries that he now remembered came from crashing into whatever dimension this was. Though he suspected ‘dimension’ might not be the best word for it. From what he’d discovered so far, there weren’t usually copies of people across the dimensions.

So where was he then?

It grated, in a way, to be so dependent on someone who had tried to kill him before. If it weren’t for his injuries and confusion, Sasuke would have put up some sort of protest. Having practically raised himself with little interference, it felt odd to be so helpless around another, relying on help with even eating for the first few days or so, but he managed to cool his own reflexive urges to recoil at the prospect and watch instead.

By the beginnings of his second week there, he was able to rely on mainly his own strength, and he knew at least the baseline reasoning behind Madara’s odd behavior.

His mind wasn’t right. Sasuke had known dozens of shinobi over the years and he’d certainly been fooled by a handful of them, but he was certain about this much. The way Madara acted around him reeked of something _off_ , as if his understanding of Sasuke’s person was skewed.

There was no reason for Madara to be kind to him, nor was it in the man’s nature to be kind for no reason. After being fed and taken care Sasuke could say with certainty that this particular Madara had never faced him in war, and yet the way he spoke to him suggested they knew each other in some intimate fashion. He would murmur constantly while he cared for a person he should have no knowledge of, at times simply kneeling next to the bed to stroke his hair, whispering apologies and low promises that made little more sense than everything else he did.

He himself had not spoken a word. Whatever had come over Madara seemed fragile at the moment, and though he felt no threat from him it was obvious he teetered close to some sort of breaking point. What Sasuke _didn’t_ know was what edge his presence was making the man lean towards.

Precarious situations demanded caution, and though patience wasn’t an intimate companion of his Sasuke found enough to wait. The madman he’d fought all those years before might not be the same as the one who cared for him but they sprouted from the same root - and Madara had ever been a tyrant on the battlefield. Even taking him by surprise did not guarantee a victory, and Sasuke saw his personal mission of protecting Konoha as far too important to risk when biding his time would likely get him further.

In the end, patience gave him the information he was seeking. Madara brought him dinner as he always did, the setting sun bleeding orange and red through the cracks in the curtains. That particular day seemed to be a good one for his caretaker of sorts, his steps a little surer, his voice and hands steadier as he placed the tray of various steamed vegetables and curry rice next to the futon.

“You’re recovering well.”

The statement came mid-bite for Sasuke, preventing him from responding - though he wasn’t sure how he would’ve responded anyway. It was the first sentence that seemed to be directed at him despite how often Madara spoke to himself while caring for him, the first where Madara looked at him without his eyes looking passed him and seeing something else. He had to make himself not lean away from Madara’s touch then, though all he did was brush a lock away from his face, eyes softening a little as a sigh escaped him.

“For a while there I thought you might not… Well. It doesn’t matter. You’re alive.” Madara paused for a few moments, his eyes closed, breaths just uneven enough to be noticeable. When he opened his eyes again they shinned more than normal, catching in the dying light.

“After you’ve finished eating, you should rest. We have must to discuss tomorrow. You…” His gaze flickered away, and then it was meeting Sasuke’s once more. “A lot has changed. For the better.”

It sounded firmer than necessary, like a front of some sort. But he had little time to think on that, his mind left wheeling only a few seconds later as Madara gathered his dishes - leaving him in the dark room with a few final words sent softly over his shoulder: “Rest well, little brother.”

* * *

 

Tobirama’s fingers clenched the windowsill hard, his teeth grinding, eyes flickering back and forth across the streets below. His focus was elsewhere still, zeroed in on the strong earth chakra a few offices down, impatient despite having sent his brother off quite forcefully into the meeting just a few short hours before.

Village affairs came first. No matter that he believed they could all be in danger, he knew from experience that his worries would fall on deaf ears. Deaf ears, eyes blinded by rose-tinted glasses, heart sent down the wrong path over a decade ago by foolishness - so much was keeping their esteemed hokage from seeing the literal bomb sitting in their midst, on the verge of breaking and with little hope of turning back at this point.

Many would say he hated Madara. Loathed him, wished for his death, wanting him gone. And they would be partially right - Tobirama wanted no one that dangerous close to the thousands he was now sworn to protect, not when the man’s sanity was coming into question more and more as the days slipped passed them. If he thought for one second the man could be saved, set down a path that would have him _protect_ Konoha, he would be the first at the Uchiha’s doorstep ready to drag him down that road.

But some people were beyond saving. He pushed himself away from the window, going back to pacing as he had been less than ten minutes prior. Minds were elastic and malleable for sure, he knew that better than most - but everything and everyone had a breaking point.

At least Hashirama didn’t keep him waiting much longer. Tobirama in turn did not waste a moment before setting off on his typical speech: the Uchiha was slipping further, something everyone in Konoha could see besides their hokage, and something _had to be done_ in order to prevent the coming disaster.

For once, Hashirama paused. His hand resting on the hat that sat on his desk, some emotion flashing in his eyes - but then it was gone, Hashirama looking up to meet his gaze, a sad sort of smile touching his lips.

“Why don’t we pay him a visit for lunch? He’s different at home, you’ll see. Might set your mind at ease.”

“You honestly believe he’ll welcome me into his home?”

Hashirama didn’t answer that. They both knew how unlikely it was that Madara would allow him to step a single foot into his home - though he was expected to tag along anyway. The hokage removed his official robe and tilted his head towards the door, apparently deciding that taking lunch a few hours early was well within his rights and authority.

Since going to Madara’s house was a step above his concerns being entirely swept under the rug again (though a rather small step in his opinion), Tobirama only pursed his lips and let the early hour part slide, following his brother out of the tower and down into the rather quiet streets of their village.

He could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d walked into the Uchiha district. Each time had left his shoulders stiff enough to ache, and now was no different. It felt as if the air itself was colder there; logically he knew that this part of Konoha was just alike any other, but there was little he could do to convince his mind to _believe_ that. Just the knowledge that he wasn’t truly welcome there made every cell in his body itch, wanting to retreat before he had to deal with any potential blow up Madara might have at his presence.

With all his focus on acting as if he was entirely comfortable in that space, it took until they were already on Madara’s front porch for him to feel another chakra source in the main household. At a passing feel he couldn’t place a name to the signature, but he hardly had all of the Uchiha signatures committed to memory quite yet. Something he immediately put on his To-Do list for the sake of Konoha’s safety. Better to know everyone who lived in the village at a passing feel than to accidentally let a foreigner or enemy into their midst.

As per his usual, Hashirama knocked far louder than necessary, waiting was a large smile plastered on his face. Tobirama made sure to stand back and to the side of the doorway, within sight but not directly so, knowing how easily perturbed the Uchiha was by his presence but not wanting to look as if he was trying to hide either.

Madara didn’t make them wait long. Nor did he seem too happy to have guests, though it was obvious he was more putting on airs than anything else when he yelled at his friend for dropping by. Especially since it took little more than a droop from Hashirama for him to let them both in, and for the first time since the village was founded Tobirama found himself a guest under the Uchiha’s roof, lead into the living room to have tea with his former mortal enemy.

Seeing him in such a domestic setting was certainly… Tobirama really didn’t have the words for it, how odd it was to see Madara walking around the home he called his own in an informal yukata, serving them biscuits, pouring them hot tea in delicately painted tea cups. It definitely didn’t lay all his suspicions or concerns to rest like Hashirama had suggested it would, but it did in some minor way momentarily calm him - enough that he wasn’t about to hiss at his brother about Madara’s mental state the second he was out of ear shot.

He still watched his movements carefully, though that could have easily been chalked up to a lifetime of having it drilled into his head to do so around any Uchiha. And when Madara left them alone for a few minutes Tobirama made sure to memorize every inch of the room he was in, for later analysis through his admittedly lacking knowledge of psychology.

One surely didn’t have to be an expert to notice obvious signs of mental illness. With a library as extensive as his he was bound to have a few books on the subject matter anyway - though he was ready to kick himself for not officially researching the subject already, settling instead for scowling down at his own reflection in the brown tea he was sipping, tuning out his brother’s absent humming as they both waited for their host to return.

Except it wasn’t Madara that padded softly down the hall towards them, stopping in the entrance way to lean against the wood frame and stare over at them with an unreadable expression.

Tobirama had at least been right about the man being an Uchiha when he’d sensed him earlier. His chakra fit the family norm rather perfectly, just as his features spoke quite loudly of his heritage. But despite not having taken the time to memorize each of the Uchiha’s chakra signatures, nor to perfectly memorize each of their faces… Tobirama found himself squinting at the man staring at them, more than a little certain he’d never seen that face before.

Not that it didn’t look familiar. One would have to be blind not to see the stark similarity between this stranger and the late Uchiha heir, and Tobirama might not have the best eyesight but it worked well enough for him to recognize it at the first glance.

“You shouldn’t be up yet.”

The sheer worry dripping from Madara’s words had Tobirama’s head whipping to the side, following his rushed movements to the other Uchiha’s side. In his periphery he could see Hashirama shifting forward, his head tilting ever so slowly to one side as he too watched their interactions, how easily Madara reached out to touch and support the other. Madara’s words were rather hushed as he spoke to the other man, and though they seemed to be having a private conversation Hashirama had never been one to understand social cues and hints well.

“I didn’t know you had anyone else over, Madara. Why don’t you introduce us?”

Probably most telling was how Madara didn’t snap at the interruption. What exactly that was meant to be telling Tobirama, he wasn’t sure yet, but he mentally filed it away as important while the Uchiha turned back to them, more calm in that moment than he’d ever seen the man.

“I suppose you haven’t ever met in any official way, have you? Though I’m surprised you’re stupid enough not to recognize my damn brother, since you’ve _seen_ him before.”

He couldn’t have heard that right. Leaning back, Tobirama blinked over at the two Uchiha, his mind reeling back to the many conversations his own brother had forced him into concerning Madara and his late siblings.

The man had had four brothers. All of which were _late_ brothers, having died before the war’s end, though he personally only knew the exact cause of Izuna’s death. Hashirama had lamented many times over the man’s suicide. Tossing himself into the Nakano instead of dying from blood-loss or infection, done in front of Madara’s eyes - a tragic story for sure, but the feelings it might invoke weren’t important at the moment.

No one alive could be considered so closely related to Madara, yet there was no hint of a lie in either his expression or chakra.

Hashirama didn’t seem to pick up on the unlikelihood of Madara’s statement though, instead tilting even further to the side in surprise, his voice rather small as he stared at the one Madara called his brother. “You look so different, I didn’t recognize you. I mean. You don’t look _that_ different, but…”

“Anija, what are you even talking about?” Hissing at his brother wasn’t the smartest thing to do with the Uchiha still in the room, but the whole situation was just too bizarre that Tobirama didn’t care, leaning close to Hashirama as he glared over at the unnamed Uchiha. Sure, he might _look_ like Izuna, but even with minimal sensing abilities one could easily notice the difference between their signatures. “That can’t be-”

“He was injured when I found him.” Madara didn’t let him finish his thought, eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second at him. “Badly. I’d thought the river had taken him all those years ago but no one had ever found his body.”

The hurt was evident in both his words and posture. Something even Tobirama could understand. His own little brothers might not have died in front of him but the pain had still been visceral, had still made his belief in the gods wane when such supposed powerful beings would allow such innocent and _good_ people be taken from the world.

Something all brothers must feel when their loved ones passed. Love makes all people blind in some fashion.

It was something the man next to Madara must have understood some of as well. His eyes had widened only just noticeably, some sort of realization dawning across his face - and hidden before Madara could look back at him. Did he know of Izuna’s death? The circumstances behind it? Anything of the late Uchiha at all?

Questions that he would definitely be asking the man later, though something caused Tobirama to pause in that moment. He had been rather focused on Madara’s actions, on how strange it was to see him in such a domestic setting, that he’d forgotten the most telling aspect of anyone’s state of being.

There was something…different about him. Tobirama could sense it. He tuned out Hashirama as he started to spew on how wonderful the situation was, frowning into his tea cup once more as he felt around Madara’s chakra signature. An oily blotch had been there for months; it had made him sick whenever he tried to feel it in the past, so he’d never bothered to try very hard to analyze it.

It wasn’t there anymore. Not at that moment, not as it had been. Tobirama had to focus harder just to find any sort of residue of it, finding a twisted and sick sort of knot in its place - but the knot felt sad more than anything else. Felt like desperation, like an unfilled longing that leaked into every other portion of the man’s chakra.

He had missed a great deal of conversation between the three whenever he allowed himself to listen in once more, red eyes finding this new Uchiha and narrowing in like a hawk at his stance, his expression, his being there at all.

There was something wrong with Madara. He’d known that for months, years really. But whatever it was had softened out at the sudden appearance of this man, who looked so much like Izuna but felt _nothing_ like him - and yet _Madara_ , a skilled sensor by any standards, a man who would have known Izuna better than anyone else, saw this Uchiha and called him brother as if he _was_ Izuna back from the dead.

It was impossible to tell if it was the other Uchiha alone that had caused whatever dark spot in Madara to soften, but Tobirama was a man of science first and foremost. Time could tell him if this was merely a blip in Madara’s madness, if it was a _worsening_ of his madness, or if the world had presented them a solution to the crazed Uchiha bomb that had been waiting to burst ever since the village had been founded.

Whatever the cost of allowing this, it would be nothing in comparison to telling Madara he was wrong now. Not with the way he looked at the other Uchiha, as if seeing someone precious he’d been missing for years.

Something tightened in Madara’s face then, his eyes cutting to Hashirama, and Tobirama finally realized his brother was still talking. He caught the back-half of whatever his brother was on about, though even with that much he couldn’t tell quite what had Madara suddenly on edge.

“-I’m sure Izuna-san’s more than happy you found him. Can’t imagine he’ll ever do something like that again - no good could ever come from sacrificing one’s self in such a fashion.”

“Don’t even pretend to understand what he’d gone through.” Not exactly what Hashirama had been assuming, though that didn’t matter to Madara - nor did it matter to Tobirama, who at the first hint of that darkness seeping back into the Uchiha moved his hand right to the concealed blade at his side. Just in case. If he was fast enough, if he could strike true enough…if it was necessary. “You never knew him, not off the battlefield. You don’t understand what he was going through or why he chose to end his life that way.”

His tone suggested Hashirama wasn’t the only one clueless in that regard. Tobirama’s gaze cut to the stand-in at Madara’s side, watching the man watch Madara, seeing indecision strike across his face.

And then watched him cross the few inches of space between them, wrapping an unexpected arm around Madara and pulling the shocked-silent man into an awkward half-hug.

“He’s right, Nii-san.”

The voice sounded nothing like Izuna’s, though a glance out of the corner of his eye told him Hashirama didn’t notice. Of course, his brother hadn’t been the one listening to Izuna hiss and hurl insults mid-battle for over a decade.

But Madara didn’t notice either. He only blinked at the man attempting to hug him - not throwing him off as he so often did when confronted by Hashirama’s incessant need to drape all over everyone. Instead all he was was just that. Look at him. As if waiting to find out what he meant or what he might what. What might happen if he allowed the contact.

At least none of them were left waiting long.

“I shouldn’t have done that to you. Shouldn’t have…made you go through such a thing.”

Did this Izuna look-alike even know what he was referring to? Tobirama had no idea if he did or not, which meant the man’s statement was a gamble.

One that seemed to work in his favor. For that moment at least. Madara seemed to forget the Senju were in the room, leaning almost subconsciously into the hug, to all the world looking as if he wanted above all else to believe the stranger in their midst. Who held him just a little tighter, a bit closer, and swore he was sorry for leaving his big brother alone to carry such heavy burdens.

The apology was sincere enough to almost fool Tobirama. He fiddled with his tea cup as he watched the two ‘brothers’ have their moment, letting Hashirama’s idiotic emotional display over it all drown out to background noise.

For now, he would allow this. Wouldn’t step between Madara and this new source of madness he’d found himself. This one, at least, might serve to keep Konoha safer than the last that had nearly overtaken him.

But he _would_ be having words with this new Uchiha - he did his best to convey that when their gazes met at last, pinning the man with a look alone.

Whatever this man wanted , he would allow it - _if_ it served Konoha’s greater good. For the moment he could comfort Madara all he wanted with his empty apologies, and Hashirama could coo over them like the idiot he was. Whatever made them happy while Tobirama took care of their village like he always did.


End file.
